Fairy Tales of Alisa III
by Black Sword
Summary: No matter where and no matter when, children love to hear stories.
1. The Rose Princess

"Mama, can you tell us a story?"

Laya gently smiled as she tucked her youngest child in alongside Kara. Two inquisitive sets of blue eyes looked at her with anticipation, one pair dark, the other light. She shook her head. "It's late, my darling. You should be asleep as it is."

"But Mama, you're going to send us to Kara's home, so we should get stories every night until we go!"

Surprise filled her. "How did you know—?" She stopped herself as the obvious answer presented itself.

"I dreamed it," Gwyn answered. "We all went to the moon."

Laya gently stroked her daughter's fine hair. Gwyn nuzzled into the caress with the contentment of a child that enjoyed affection. Her poor darling had not yet realized what a unique curse her gift was. The power to see the future was something no one should ever have. Already there had been incidents that had needed to be smoothed over, prophecies innocently spoken that had come true. Laya had worked hard to convince those involved that her daughter had merely overheard things that she had naively repeated. She had made Gwyn promise never to speak of her dreams to anyone who was not family, not even her grandparents. For now, only she, Nial, and Adan knew what it meant when Gwyn dreamed.

Her sister had suffered greatly because of her gift for divination. The elder Laya had not only suffered prescient dreams, but visions that had imposed themselves without warning. It had been a great and terrible power that often drove her strong, proud sister to tears. The memories were enough to make Laya change her mind.

"Alright, my darling. One story tonight and straight to sleep. I'll even tell you one story every night until you go home with Kara," Laya said, lightly tapping her daughter's nose. "Deal?"

"Yes, Mama, I promise," Gwyn said happily.

She tapped her chin for a moment as she thought of what story to tell the two girls. Their eyes shone with excitement as they waited. Laya glanced over at Adan's bed. Her son was already fast asleep, but he somehow provided the inspiration she needed. She knew exactly which story to tell as she gently touched Gwyn's hair.

_Once upon a time..._

_..._there was a poor soldier. He had taken a wound, so while his hands were as strong as ever, he could not move as fast as he once had and could no longer serve. Unsure of what to do, he wandered far and wide, choosing his path at random.

One day, he found himself by a river without a bridge. He was about to turn around and go back the way he had come when he saw an old woman. The old woman had a longing look on her face as she stared across the river. He said, "Grandmother, why do you sit here alone?"

The old woman looked at the soldier and said, "I sit alone as I have no children or grandchildren to care for me. The bridge washed away and now I can't go home. The current is too strong, and my bones too old to try to cross."

The soldier thought about it and said, "Come on my back and I shall carry you across."

As they crossed, the current became stronger. The soldier's wounded leg threatened to buckle many times. Every step hurt him greatly, but the soldier refused to give up. The soldier was very tired when they finally got to the other side, and sat down with a heavy sigh. The old woman peered at him and asked him where he was going.

The soldier smiled and replied, "I hardly know." Then he added, as a joke, "Perhaps I should look for a princess."

The old woman said nothing for a moment. Then she said, "It is not hard to look for a princess, but it is impossible to see one. Follow this river south and you shall reach a wall of briars. On the other side is the enchanted domain of the Rose Princess."

"Have many tried to reach her?" asked the soldier.

"Many times many," said the old woman. "Those who did not give up never returned."

"Then I shall be the first to return," said the soldier.

"Take heed of her title and perhaps you will," said the old woman.

The soldier followed the river south for many days until he reached the wall of briars. It was a tall wall, as tall as a castle, with many thorns. The soldier walked around the wall for a time, but found no way inside. He stared at his hands as he thought about what to do. Finally, he said, "She is the Rose Princess, so surely she would not wish for me to cut her subjects. My hands are rough from the sword, so surely I can advance if I move the briars."

So he did. The thorns were wicked, but his hands were strong. The soldier advanced through the thick briars, pulling and pushing them out of his way. As he advanced deeper, he caught sight of the many who had not succeeded, the swords in their hands nicked from cutting, their bodies wrapped tightly by briars. He said nothing as his hands bled and continued onward.

After many hours of this hard work, he reached the other side of the wall of briars and stood in a field of roses. They were of many colors, blue and yellow, pink and red, black and white, and their perfume was so strong that he felt dizzy from the scent. In the middle of the field was a beautiful castle, but the soldier could see no path to it. For a moment, he thought of cutting his way, but decided against it, saying, "Surely, the Rose Princess would not like it if I did that. I shall take care where I step and how I move."

The soldier watched where he stepped and walked very carefully. More than once, he was tempted to pluck a rose to offer to the princess, but he dismissed the thought and went on. More hours of careful walking led him to the castle's gate just as the sun set. He entered the castle and went to the throne room. He opened its doors and went inside.

The Rose Princess frowned at him from a throne shaped like a bud. She was as beautiful as a rose, with lips as red as blood, eyes as blue as the sky, and hair as black as night. She asked, "Who are you, to be in my castle?"

"I am but a poor soldier who wished to see a princess," said he.

"Do you come from outside?" she asked, still puzzled, for she had never had a visitor before. "Why are you bloody?"

"I do indeed come from outside," said the soldier as he looked down at himself. "It was a bit of work to come here, as I did not wish to harm your subjects, and ended in harming myself."

"Oh, I see," said the Rose Princess. "I thank you for the care you took with my subjects. Did you only wish to see me?"

"Yes," said the soldier. "Perhaps I can bother you for shelter tonight? I am very tired from the journey, and ought to rest before I return."

"Oh, yes, of course," said the Rose Princess. "Please, eat dinner with me."

As the old woman had said, the Rose Princess did indeed rule an enchanted domain. Food appeared on their tables without servants to place it. Mops and brooms cleaned on their own. Everywhere was the scent of roses.

The soldier had fallen in love with the Rose Princess at first sight and talked with her the entire dinner. She asked him many questions, of people and cities and countries, and he told her stories, of the people and cities and countries he had seen. When at last, late at night, he went to his bed, he could only think sadly of his departure in the morning.

In the morning, before he could leave, the Rose Princess pleaded with him to stay. "Oh, please," she cried. "I have been so very alone for so very long. Can you not stay just one more night?"

The soldier agreed and escorted the Rose Princess as she walked through her domain of roses. The flowers parted before their ruler. These roses are not like ours, for the care of the Rose Princess meant they lacked thorns. If today, she did not pay as much attention to them as she usually did, they were tolerant, if not happy.

Once again, they spoke for many hours, the Rose Princess eager as the soldier told her many stories of the world. As she had only lived within her domain of roses, she could only stare wide-eyed when told of the wonders outside. When morning came, as it always did, she once again pleaded with the soldier to stay just one more night. Once again, the soldier found he could do naught but oblige her.

And so it went. Each day, the Rose Princess would coax the soldier into staying just one more night. Each day, the soldier did as she asked, and told her more of the wonders outside. As the Rose Princess paid more attention to the soldier, her roses grew jealous. They were accustomed to being the only objects of her affection, and it angered them that a mere man was taking what they thought theirs. The wind carried their voices to the Rose Princess.

"Get rid of him," they whispered. "Get rid of him! Get rid of him!"

"But why?" asked the Rose Princess, very surprised.

"You belong to us," they replied angrily. "You are either only for us or only for him!"

The Rose Princess was sad at their words and stared out of her window for many days, saying not a word. The soldier, worried by this behavior, finally went to her. Fearful, he asked, "Is everything all right?"

She looked upon him and gave him a smile that melted his heart. "I only wanted to look upon my roses one last time before we left to see the world."

At her words, her roses grew sharp thorns that they wear to this day. Seeing this, the Rose Princess took the hand of her soldier, and left with him to see the world. In time, they were married and lived happily ever after...


	2. The King and the Priestess

A tent flap rustled as someone entered her cerulean pavilion. The giant portable structure was divided into three succeeding "rooms;" the first was a small receiving area where visitors waited. The second took up most of the space within and was a combination office and dining room. Her room, the last of the three, was large enough for a bed, a desk, a chair, a few stools, and pallets for her ladies in waiting. Intent on her papers, Maia did not look up. Tomorrow, there would be important trade negotiations between each ruler and she needed to review to see what she could get and what she could give. If it was anyone she did not need to see, her pages and secretaries would deflect them handily.

Happy chatter floated across the silk walls before the flap to her section whispered as it was pushed aside. "Aunt Maia, Aunt Maia, can we have a story, please, pretty please?"

"We?" Maia asked as she looked up from her desk. She stared at the scene in front of her. Her adorable cousin Thea grinned at her from her position on the back of a large brown-haired boy, her ever-present peevish-looking Chirper under her arm.

When her eyes met his brown orbs, she recognized who this boy must be.

_Lena's son..._

The son who should have been hers.

She had not secured her throne without the ability to dissemble. Maia concealed the firestorm of her emotions as she carefully set her papers down and looked at her little cousin. "It's proper manners to introduce a guest, is it not, Thea?"

"Oops," Thea said contritely. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

"Perfectly alright," Maia said amiably as her heart ached. "Introductions?"

"Sorry! Um, Aunt Maia, this is my friend Nial! Nial, this is my Aunt Maia! She's the Queen of Cille."

A warm smile that Maia found far too familiar filled the boy's face. He bowed, Thea still on his back. The little princess squeaked indignantly as she tightened her grip to avoid falling off. "I almost fell, Nial!"

"Sorry, Thea," Nial said.

Thea harrumphed. "As long as you don't do it again!"

"Bossy," Nial said calmly.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"I suppose you don't want a story?" Maia asked before the two children could continue _that_ particular endless game.

"Oh, no, no!" Thea said quickly. "We do, we do! Nial's just being a doody-head right now."

"Am not."

"Are too!"

"Sit down and I'll think of a story to tell," Maia said, once again nipping the argument in the bud.

Nial crouched down so that Thea could hop off. Both children sat cross-legged before her desk, an awkward position where she could not see them. Maia stood and glided to one of the stools. She sat and arranged her _sati _as she thought of the story she wanted to tell. It had been one of her favorites as a child, or so she was told. Even without her memories, it held a special poignancy for her. She could not think of a more appropriate child to tell it to than the one who should have been hers.

_Once upon a time... _

A temple stood deep within the forest. It was very far away from people, so the trees were very tall and their branches thick with leaves. Wild flowers grew everywhere and the bushes were thick with juicy berries. It was a holy place, so the strife of men was never near.

In this temple lived a priestess by the name of Charvi. Like her sister-priestesses before and since, she was an orphan, left there by her parents to be raised in the great mysteries of life. Charvi grew up to be a beautiful woman.

One day, a great king was hunting in that great forest, Melech by name. He wandered by the temple and caught sight of Charvi. On first seeing her, he lost his heart to her beauty and grace. She, however, was not impressed.

"How can you break the peace of the temple and bring a weapon?" Charvi scolded him, for it was always against the laws to bring weapons to the temples.

The king broke his bow in two with a great effort. "It was never my intention to go against the laws of the temples. I have no excuse and can only beg your forgiveness."

Perceiving his genuineness, Charvi forgave him.

King Melech stayed at the temple for a time, and the priests and priestesses could only smile as he courted their Charvi. Each day, he would speak with Charvi, and each day, she would smile in his company. They soon fell in love for true and were married in the temple. King Melech gave his bride his royal ring as a sign of their love.

However, as is the way of the world, his kingdom needed his attention, as there was unrest with his nobles and his people. He left the temple, and promised to return for his wife.

Charvi's heart was filled with thoughts of her husband and her sisters could only laugh at how distracted she was by her daydreams. One day, a powerful sorcerer came to the temple but, lost in thoughts of her husband, Charvi failed to greet him properly. Furious at the slight, the sorcerer cursed Charvi. "You who cannot keep your mind to your proper task, may you never enjoy that of which you dream!"

Frightened, poor Charvi could only watch as he departed in a rage, but her best friend, Abira by name, quickly ran after him. She caught up with him and confronted him with great fire. Abira said, "Curse yourself, you arrogant sorcerer! Our Charvi only dreams of the King Melech, her new husband, whom was called away to duty in the first days of their marriage and promised to return for her! Now, because of you, he will never come back for her and she will only know heartbreak! If you cursed yourself a thousand times, it would not be enough!"

The sorcerer was amazed by this speech and appalled when he realized that his extreme wrath was not warranted. "Truly, I regret, for I have done harm. I cannot undo this curse, as the rules of magic do not allow for such a thing, but I can change the terms. If indeed she dreamed of her husband, he need only see a token he has given her for all to be right."

Time passed and still King Melech did not return. Charvi's daydreams turned to worry as neither her husband nor news of him reached her. Worry became panic when she discovered that King Melech had left her with child. When told of this, the chief priest decided that the solution was simple and Charvi would go to the king.

A few chosen friends accompanied Charvi as she left the deep forest temple and journeyed to the city of King Melech. It was a long, hot journey, through forests and on dirt roads. When they came to the capital, they saw the great river that protected the city. They crossed the river by ferry. As the trip had been very tiring, Charvi fell asleep. Her husband's royal ring slipped off of her finger and into the river without her realizing it.

When they arrived at the court of King Melech, they were startled when they discovered that the king had lost his memories of Charvi and their time together. The king refused to believe she was his wife. She strove to remind her husband of their wedding, of his promise to return for her, that she carried his child, but still he remembered nothing, believed nothing.

"The curse, the sorcerer's curse," Charvi whispered, horrified.

Abira attempted to reassure her. "Show him the ring so he may remember you! That is the way to break the curse!"

Charvi looked at her hand and her face became pale. The royal ring was lost!

Saddened, they could only return to the forest temple. In her sorrow, Charvi could not stay with her friends, and went deeper into the forest to hide her shame. Only Abira knew where Charvi lived, for it is the way of best friends to share secrets with each other. In time, Charvi gave birth to a baby boy she named Sar. Charvi focused on raising her son, an intelligent, fearless boy who, as all children do, alternated between delighting his mother and worrying her.

One day, a fisherman caught a great fish in his net. When he cut open the fish, he found a ring, something so grand he knew it could only belong to the king. He rushed to the capital and managed to tell his story to King Melech.

When the king saw his ring, his memory of Charvi and his love for her were restored, just as the sorcerer had decreed. King Melech was ashamed of his behavior, unable to believe he had forgotten his beloved and had dishonored his pregnant wife so. He abandoned his palace and his kingdom and went in search of her.

The king went straightaway to the temple deep within the forest where he had met Charvi. There, Abira barred his way, for though she knew the reason for it, she had not forgotten the king's behavior nor had she forgiven him for the pain he had caused her best friend. "Look who it is," she said angrily. "The great king Melech, who sends away his pregnant wife and shames her before his entire people! What could such a one want in this holy place?"

"I have done a great harm to my wife," replied the king humbly. "I wish to beg her forgiveness and honor her as I should."

"Oh, haven't we heard that song before?" Abira taunted him. "Surely you can sing a different one."

"I know not why, but even when she was before me, I could not remember her," the king replied. He drew forth the royal ring and showed it to Abira. "My memory of my wife only returned when I beheld this ring, the token of love I gave her so long ago. Please allow me to see her!"

Abira softened toward him, if only a little. "Charvi is not here. If you wish to find her, then follow me on your knees."

They journeyed deeper into the forest, Abira the guide forward as King Melech followed behind her, his movement slowed by Abira's condition that he follow on his knees. It did not take long for the king's knees to be scraped bloody and raw. Whenever Abira taunted him with the pace or his injuries, King Melech replied, "I have acted dishonorably. To see my wife and beg her forgiveness, I shall accept your punishment."

It was slow going, for Charvi had concealed herself deep within the forest. Each night, King Melech was forced to wrap his battered knees, but he said not a word of complaint. After a few days of this, Abira relented a little. "You may follow on hands and knees. The only reason I lessen this punishment is because you move too slow."

The king said nothing and followed on his hands and knees. They advanced deeper into the forest until they came upon the grove that was home to the one they sought. There, King Melech beheld his son in the lap of his mother as the two conversed. When Charvi saw her husband, she froze. Fearful that his wife hated him for his sin against her, the king crawled forward and bowed his head to the ground.

"Wife, I acted dishonorably and shamed you. I make no excuse, for the blame is mine and mine alone. I have crawled through this forest just to see you. I beg your forgiveness."

There was silence for a time. King Melech did not dare raise his head, for he was afraid of what he might see in his wife's face. Had she not had enough time to forget him, after all? While his love was still new, hers had had enough time to twist to hate. He would not be able to fault her if it had.

"Sar," Charvi said. "This is your father, my husband, whom I love from the bottom of my heart."

With that, the family was reunited. King Melech brought his wife and son home to his kingdom, where they all lived happily ever after.


End file.
